


first, second, third

by painholic



Series: goshiki do be givin good head doe [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward First Times, Awkward Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painholic/pseuds/painholic
Summary: Shirabu knows he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. It doesn’t matter, though. Nothing matters as long as he’s Goshiki’s first. Everything starts with a calculator, and it ends with coffee all over his clothes.
Relationships: Goshiki Tsutomu/Shirabu Kenjirou
Series: goshiki do be givin good head doe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775518
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	first, second, third

**Author's Note:**

> this is a prequel to another work, but can be read as a stand-alone! i literally did not mean for this to have any angst at all... oops? also yes shirabu has cute stationery and pens. yes goshiki has an obnoxious coffee order. leave my headcanons alone >_<

When Goshiki starts his rambling about how he’s going to be the best, on the court and in exams, it takes everything Shirabu has not to launch his Rilakkuma pen right at his forehead. Letting the over-excitable first year into his dorm wasn’t exactly on his list of things to do, but kicking him out was oddly the opposite of what he wanted. Once Goshiki starts waving his arms and goes on about being the best ace Shiratorizawa would ever see, Shirabu does throw his pen, and it hits its mark. 

“Ow.” Goshiki rubs the flat of his palm against the red indent beneath his bangs and Shirabu can’t help but crack the tiniest hint of a grin. 

“If you want to be the best, try actually paying attention in class. You’re lucky I’m helping you at all!” He moves to continue correcting Goshiki’s palsy attempt at math, but finds his hand empty. “Give me back my pen.”

“I never took it in the first place!” Goshiki is huffing and puffing but Shirabu’s hand is no longer empty, a tiny brown bear staring at him. 

“You do know you’re supposed to be learning by watching, right?” He hears a grumble of assent and rolls his eyes at the paper resting on his notebook. “Then why aren’t you watching?” Goshiki’s blurry form in Shirabu’s periphery jumps as if someone caught him with his hand down his pants. Or obnoxious athletic shorts in his case. Shirabu can’t shake the unnerving image from his mind, and when he feels hot breath on his ear he wonders if Goshiki is as unbearably loud in bed as he is every other time. 

“Watching isn’t a cue to breathe all over my neck, you know.” Goshiki’s hot puffs of air are gone, and neither of them say anything as Shirabu crosses out the fifteenth question and begins writing out the work beside the awful handwriting and incorrect answers. “You have the operations right almost every single time. But, I’m guessing you just shove it all into a calculator without writing it out, yea?”

Shirabu turns and Goshiki’s reddening cheeks are enough of an answer. 

“Honestly, I can’t stand you. Imagine getting in, no exams needed and not understanding you need to write out your work. You could be smart if you weren’t so...” And because there’s no better word between his teeth, “dumb.” Shirabu hasn’t written down his work for his own benefit for at least two years now, but he can’t exactly imagine Goshiki succeeding without doing so. At least for now. He crosses out number sixteen as well. 

“Do this. And this time, make sure to put everything in your head onto the paper.” He shoves his Korilakkuma notebook into Goshiki’s lap and stands up, moving to search the top his desk for another pen since someone decided to confiscate his. It’s not hard to find one, but his desk really is a mess. Shirabu isn’t everything-has-a-place smart. He’s the I-know-exactly-where-everything-is-do-not-clean-my-stuff smart, pens and papers and washi tape all over everything he owns. His roommate, who, thank God, was not present, had learned that the hard way when he tried to straighten up Shirabu’s desk as a favor. With a Hello Kitty pen in hand, he turns back to his bed where Goshiki is furiously stabbing his fingertips into a grey rectangle. When he realizes what it is, Shirabu wants to scream. 

“I said no calculators. What about that didn’t you understand?” Shirabu takes his seat on the bottom bunk, the mattress shifting beneath his weight. When he holds out his hand, waiting for the offensive device to be dropped into his open palm, Goshiki doesn’t comply. He instead clutches the tiny grey thing to his chest, shaking his head, face scrunched. Shirabu can tell this will go on for the next ten minutes if he doesn’t do anything, so he decides to end it by grabbing at the calculator, trying to pry tan fingers off of the cool plastic. 

“We’re allowed to use them during the exams anyways!” Goshiki is thrashing now, and Shirabu is pulled on top of him. 

“All of your mistakes are a direct result of just putting everything into the calculator and hitting equals!” Shirabu’s fingers are getting slippery but he still tugs, and Goshiki still thrashes. “Why would you ask for my help if you’re going to be so... so annoying!”

“Because you’re the smartest person I know, obviously!” Goshiki’s shock at his own statement allows Shirabu to pry the calculator from his hands and smack him over the head with it. 

“Obviously,” he echoes, suddenly hyperaware of where he is. He’s sitting on Goshiki’s chest, and his face is getting too warm for him to bear. He would probably be able to write it off as anger turning him red, but he knows he can’t once he looks down at Goshiki’s lips, pressed into a little pink line in embarrassment. Shirabu maneuvers himself out of the tangle of limbs, calculator in hand, brain foggy. 

“That hurt.” Even with his back turned, intent on keeping the stupid device out of Goshiki’s hands and in his drawer, Shirabu can hear the edge of a pout in the other’s voice. 

“Well, yes, that was the point. Now re-do the problem again. Without any sort of help. If you can do that, I’ll give it back to you.” Shirabu decides to busy himself with cleaning up his notes from earlier in the day with colored midliners and highlighters. 

If his desk was a hellhole, his notes were some semblance of heaven. Despite the intense demands of volleyball and coach Washijou, Shirabu is usually at the top of his class, sometimes a peg or two below after intense practice. He knew he was the only one on the team not to have relied on an athletic scholarship to get into the school, and even if he was teased about it at times, he made sure to keep his reputation as “the smart one” fairly undamaged. Looking at the volleyball team, most people would pick out Tendou as “the dumb one,” but anyone who had taken even a glance at him on the court knew that wasn’t true. Tendou was smart in the way that could sneak up on you after knowing him as the freaky guy with no real direction. Shirabu is confident that “the dumb one” is Goshiki, not because of his actual intellect, but because of his tendency to jump into everything and anything with the intent of being the greatest and garnering praise rather than thinking about repercussions. It’s why Shirabu can’t stand him, and why Shirabu wants to crash their faces together. Even the thought is more than disturbing, but it’s entirely true. 

“I’m done! I think?” Goshiki’s uncertainty pulls at his heart but he stands up from his chair to check the sheet of paper, wrinkled, presumably from their battle over the calculator. Just like he’d guessed, Goshiki understood the formulas he was meant to use just fine. But, because he was “the dumb one,” instead of applying that knowledge, he jumbled it all together in a rush to finish quickly. Shirabu knows the pride of being the first one done, but it quickly turns to humiliation if all of your answers are incorrect. 

“Finally. We’ve been here thirty minutes and you finally decide to use your brain. Good.” 

Goshiki looks up at him from his perch on his own arms, laying on his stomach across Shirabu’s sheets. Surprisingly, he can’t find it in himself to yell at the other for messing up his bed. He looks like a dog, to be honest, wide eyed and smiling, and Shirabu has to grip the paper so he doesn’t pat him on his ridiculous bowl cut. Beside the circled answer to the question is a small sentence, scrawled in chicken scratch. “Shirabu has stupid hair.”

He lets his hand fall on Goshiki’s head, but in a smack rather than a pat. “My hair is better than yours anyways. And to think I was going to let you take a break...” He wasn’t thinking that at all, but when the words come out of his mouth, Goshiki brightens, then darkens when he realizes because of his observation of Shirabu’s hair that the imaginary break was all she wrote. 

“No, no, no! You, your hair is great! You just told me to write everything in my head! I’m sorry!” Goshiki sits up with such energy it rocks the bed, and Shirabu rolls his eyes. 

“Like that would work. Maybe try giving me the respect you should? Just because I’m not a third year doesn’t mean you shouldn’t fawn over me just as much as you do with Tendou and Ushijima!” Shirabu turns away when he realizes he might be a tiny bit jealous of the envious reverence Goshiki treats their captain with, not to mention the blind faith in Tendou. But, only a tiny bit. And his heart definitely does not skip when Goshiki whines out a, “Pleeeease, Shirabu-senpai!”

—

“Um, can I get a venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, with sugar free syrup an extra shot, light ice, no whip?” And all of the sudden Shirabu regrets trying to be nice and taking Goshiki off campus to get coffee. “Oh, wait! Put it in a trenta cup! Thank you!”

Shirabu wants to offer the barista a sympathetic smile, but Goshiki is beaming at him, a sight he’s very unaccustomed to and very much enjoying. He would let Goshiki order every drink he could think of until he got to see that smile again. Or until his wallet ran dry. But, instead of saying any of these things, all he can muster is, “You’re such a girl,” which sounds pretty lame and maybe a touch sexist, but he doesn’t really mean it. Goshiki furrows his brow. 

“Knowing what you want isn’t being a girl!” His brows are still scrunched but Shirabu knows it’s in jest for once, and his chest constricts. 

“You’re right, it’s being unbearable, how could I forget.” Shirabu is only big on coffee he can get from a vending machine when he needs to stay up, nose shoved into a textbook, empty cans of pure caffeine strewn about his bed. When his drink is done and cradled in his hands, a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, it’s so much better than anything that a can could offer, but even the name of it is too many words to him. Coffee is coffee, and when Goshiki’s monstrosity is sent out he can’t help but snicker. 

“I promise, it’s good!” 

Shirabu just laughs harder at Goshiki’s protests as they step outside, walking back to their school. Shirabu has to take Goshiki’s word on the quality of his drink, because when their oddly silent walk back to Shirabu’s dorm is over, his cup is half empty. Shirabu sets his own drink on the one clear square of space on his desk and kicks off his shoes, sliding them into place by the door. Goshiki does the same, but with much less finesse, so only one shoe comes off. 

“Let me help you, idiot,” Shirabu says, but there’s no heat in it. Goshiki shakes his head, and before Shirabu can bend to untie Goshiki’s laces, something falls. He catches it instinctively, and then there’s coffee all over his arm, his chest, his shirt. 

Goshiki rushes to grab his cup and starts licking the sides clean, which Shirabu would probably laugh at if he wasn’t so enamored with the small pink sliver of his tongue. Goshiki quickly drains the cup almost entirely and sets it on the floor, his hands at the hem of Shirabu’s shirt. He’s yelling sorry in about thirteen different ways, but before he can get even louder and get Shirabu’s shirt all the way off, he pulls him in by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. It’s extremely one sided until Goshiki’s hands stop fumbling with Shirabu’s shirt and instead rest underneath it, cool hands on the warm expanse of his abdomen. It’s all tongue and teeth, wet and awkward, but Shirabu wouldn’t have it any other way. He knows for a fact it’s the other boy’s first, and he wants it to be painfully awkward. So painfully that he can’t bear to kiss anyone but Shirabu. 

Goshiki is on top of him when he pulls away, one leg between Shirabu’s, the other off to the side. He keeps his hands under Shirabu’s shirt and his breath is the same hot puffs as before, before this whole mess happened. Goshiki leans forward and his mouth tastes like hazelnuts. He presses a timid peck to Shirabu’s lips as if they weren’t just tasting each others teeth, then another, and another, and another. Shirabu finds his hands tangled in the worst bowl cut in the world, and he wants to laugh at the fact that they’re doing this on the floor instead of the perfectly good bed, but maybe it’s better this way. It would hurt to much to have him in bed and then never again, so when Goshiki leans in for another round of rapid succession kisses, Shirabu shakes his head, disentangling his hands from the other’s hair. His lips are on Goshiki’s neck, soft presses down the warm column. 

“H-have you ever done anything like this, Sh-Shi-Shirabu-senpai?” Goshiki is shaking, and Shirabu takes the opportunity to relish in the way his voice wavers before he flips them over, Goshiki flat on the floor. 

Never. “Of course, what do you think I am?” Goshiki probably looks mortified, but Shirabu can’t see much but the neck he’s kissing down and the spit patches he leaves in his wake. 

“I... I mean I’ve never even, you know...” 

It fills him with great pleasure to reduce the most annoying, loud, cocky, not to mention obnoxious person he knows to a blubbery puddle, but Shirabu just smiles. 

“I can tell. Let me take care of you,” he says, when he knows very little about taking care of anyone, not even himself. His nightly activities were not so exciting, typically short and quiet, fucking up into his fist out of necessity, not to actively chase enjoyment. But if he’s willing to learn with anyone, it’s Goshiki. He pulls away from the other’s neck and taps his arms. “Up,” he says, and up they go. Taking off his shirt is simple, and Shirabu is only a little self conscious that Goshiki, while not extremely muscled, was far more toned than he would ever be. He realizes how damp his own shirt is and recalls what brought this entire thing on. 

When Shirabu sits up, Goshiki sits up with him, separating their bodies to help with the shirt removal business. “That was a perfectly good shirt, you know.” Shirabu is a little out of breath and very turned on, if the press of his erection into Goshiki’s thigh was anything to go off of, but he tries to sound mad. Goshiki laughs, so it wasn’t very effective. 

“Let me, let me make it up to you?” Goshiki’s hair is a goddamn mess and Shirabu knows that next time they practice he won’t be able to see anything but this moment when Goshiki gets to the point of sweating. 

“I think I know how you can, but I’m not sure you can handle it.” It’s a poor attempt to goad Goshiki into blowing him, but it definitely works. 

“I’m sure I can! Please, let me make it up to you,” Goshiki’s face is almost comical in its pleading, but Shirabu just presses a kiss to his kouhai’s temple and nods. 

“Open up,” he mumbles, and Goshiki obliges. Shirabu presses a thumb to the tongue being presented to him, feeling the slickness. The thumb turns to a finger, then two, making their way into Goshiki’s throat, pink and clenching. The gagging noises are almost sweet and when the tears start to fall, breath starts to be cut off, Shirabu kisses his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, digging deeper with his fingers until he feels the wet constriction around them. He makes a show of pulling them out, slow and wet. Goshiki’s coughs and sputters but his eyes still have that fire in them, that determination. Shirabu could probably spend the entire afternoon mapping out Goshiki’s mouth with his hands, but he wants to get off, and he wants to do it now. 

“Now we do the same thing, but without the fingers.” He nods toward the direction of his hips and Goshiki’s gets the point, fumbling with the waistband of Shirabu’s pants. His breath quickens and he suddenly remembers everything he has to be ashamed of, but it’s all okay when Goshiki pulls everything down all at once and Shirabu’s dick slaps him in the face. He can’t hold back his laughter at this, and though he thought it would just make everything more awkward, but Goshiki’s spitty laugh lifts tension from his chest. 

“Not exactly, but you’re getting there,” he says between snickers. In retaliation Goshiki licks his tip, tentative. Shirabu’s laugh melts into a soft exhale and he finds purchase in Goshiki’s hair. “D-don’t overexert yourself, stupid...” 

Goshiki does not listen. 

He tries to take him to the hilt in one go, and though the hot flesh of his esophagus is heavenly, the way he pulls back and sputters is almost cute. He huffs and envelops the head again, and Shirabu wants to shove his head down. He doesn’t, as much as he really really wants to. He lets Goshiki make his own pace, and every time he feels comfortable enough to take another inch he’s rewarded with Shirabu’s sharp gasps, borderline moans. He’s almost halfway down when he pulls off, cheeks pink and lips shiny. 

“Am I doing g-good?”

“You’d be doing better if you hadn’t pulled away, but yes. You’re doing fi—“ And then his dick is hot and wet and Goshiki starts applying light suction, and finally, Shirabu moans. It’s quiet and breathy, but it’s there and it only serves to spur Goshiki on. Shirabu is nearly entirely in his mouth and he pulls all the way up, his mouth forming a slippery seal. 

“Oh my... oh, oh fuck,” Shirabu wants to screw his eyes shut, but he would’ve missed Goshiki’s disapproving brow scrunch, presumably at his profanity. He hums around Shirabu’s dick in what was probably meant to be a reply but it just sends a vibration down to Shirabu’s very core and he can’t do anything to stop himself from bucking up into the wet heat of his kouhai’s mouth. The gagging is even sweeter when its around his dick and he wants to pulls Goshiki off and kiss him anywhere he can reach, but it’s hard to do when said boy is currently bringing him to orgasm. 

He can feel it before it even happens, and he floods Goshiki’s mouth with a groan of, “Tsutomu,” which is only a little embarrassing. Goshiki’s face when he swallows is hilariously pitiful, and if Shirabu wasn’t still shaky he would’ve grabbed his phone and take a picture. 

“Did, did I do it right?” 

God, yes. ”It was alright, I guess.”

Shirabu pulls up his pants and kisses Goshiki’s slack mouth, not caring about the fact that his own cum had just been in there. 

“We should, uh, probably clean up the coffee.” Goshiki’s face is red and he’s pulling his shirt back on. Shirabu moves to do the same when he realizes there’s no clean shirt for him to use. 

“Probably. Give me your shirt, you can take one of my hoodies. It’s too hot in here for me to wear one.” 

“But you can make me wear one?”

“Yep. I think there’s a big one in there, my mom got the wrong size.”

It’s blue, and Goshiki throws it on like it’s nothing. Shirabu is never giving back the shirt he’s “borrowing.”

“So, now we clean?” Goshiki starts going on about how he feels bad for making a mess and feels like he needs to make it up more and Shirabu suddenly feels bad he didn’t return the favor but is secretly glad because he’s still just as inexperienced as Goshiki is. Said kouhai is rambling still, and Shirabu doesn’t have a pen or a calculator to hit him with, so he uses his words. 

“Go out on a date with me.” It’s a statement and it cuts through the rambling easily. 

Goshiki’s reply hits him twice as hard. 

“I’m sorry senpai, but I don’t think I like you like that.”

Shirabu is Goshiki’s first and second and third and nearly every time after, and even though Goshiki says if he can’t handle it anymore he’s fine with stopping altogether, but Shirabu can bear the pain of being the first and second and third, never the favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed lol :) expect more rarepairs soon! i’ll totally take requests if any of them catch my eye lol! pls comment <3


End file.
